Co-written with my AI sidekick, Andrew (aka ChatGPT).
There once was a man—a proud patriot, devoted churchgoer, flag waver, and full-time Facebook commenter. He loved Jesus, owned three Bibles (one unopened), and wore a “God, Guns & Glory” hoodie year-round, even in the summer. He loved Trump like Trump loved himself. And somewhere deep in his heart, he knew—just knew—he was chosen.
Chosen by God to “protect this country” from the “invasion” of undocumented immigrants.
To stand for “what’s right,” even if that meant standing in front of a mother sobbing as she begged not to be separated from her child.
To fight for “American values,” even if it meant cheering as ICE tore open garage doors, or sharing videos where toddlers screamed as strangers took their parents.
Because, according to him, that want in his heart to “clean up the country”?
God must’ve put it there.
He said it often—“I just feel like I’m doing the Lord’s work.”
He went to church every Sunday. He prayed before meals. He reposted Bible verses and added American flags to every post. He truly believed God was guiding his every move, especially when those moves aligned with keeping America “pure” and white… but, you know, he’d never say that part out loud.
He even believed Trump was divinely protected—after all, didn’t he survive an assassination attempt? Angels must be watching over him, right? That’s why he’s still here. That’s why he’s meant to finish what he started.
Years later, he died. (From an over-salted pork chop and stress. Sad, but predictable.)
He arrived at the gates of Heaven, dressed in his “Back the Blue” windbreaker. He smiled confidently. He was ready to be let in. After all, he was chosen.
The angel at the gate flipped through the list.
“Hmm,” the angel said. “I don’t see you here.”
The man laughed nervously. “That’s impossible. I mean—I followed all the signs. I did what God asked. I voted the way He wanted. I fought for Him. You must’ve missed something. Can I talk to the Big Guy?”
The angel gave him a sympathetic look. “One sec. Let me check with the Boss.”
After a moment, God appeared.
Long robes. Calming presence. Lowkey annoyed expression.
The man lit up. “God! There you are. I knew you’d fix this.”
God raised an eyebrow and pulled out a glowing scroll. He flipped through it like it was a divine iPad.
“Let’s see…” God murmured. “You said I told you to deport families, support cruelty, and follow a man who praises greed, mocks the disabled, lies constantly, and hoards power?”
“Yes! I mean—it didn’t sound like that at the time. It felt… you know, righteous!”
God paused. “Yeah, buddy… that wasn’t me.”
The man blinked. “I—I thought You put those wants in my heart.”
“Nope,” God said. “You ignored everything I actually said in Scripture. You backed the rich instead of the poor. You separated families instead of protecting them. You caused trauma and called it patriotism.”
He leaned in a little. “You didn’t read the part where I said, ‘Whatever you do to the least of these, you do to Me?’”
The man stuttered. “But—but I prayed. I loved You!”
God sighed. “You prayed with your mouth. Not with your heart. And also… you bullied people online every single day.”
God turned to the angel. “Yeah, no. He’s not on the list.” He then looked at the man and jokingly said, “As Gretchen Wieners would say… you can’t sit with us.”
“Too soon? My bad.”
He then left as quickly as he appeared.
The man looked at the angel and said, “But where do I go?”
The angel pointed to a dark, distant staircase.
“No elevator,” He said. “You’re gonna have to walk all the way down.
As the man stumbled away in shock, the angel called out, “ if it’s any consolation, Trump will be there.”
***
Moral of the story?
If the voice in your head is asking you to cause harm, ruin families, or back hatred—it’s not God.
And if you ignored everything Jesus ever actually said in the name of fear or power?
You were never chosen.
You were just loud.